Besides, he could confound the spheres And set the planets by the ears;

To show his skill, he Mars could join
To Venus in aspect malign,

Then call in Mercury for aid,

And cure the wounds that Venus made.
Great scholars have in Lucian read
When Philip, king of Greece, was dead,
His soul and spirit did divide,
And each part took a different side;
One rose a star, the other fell
Beneath, and mended shoes in Hell.
Thus Partridge still shines in each art,
The cobbling and star-gazing part,
And is installed as good a star

As any of the Cæsars are.

Triumphant star! some pity show
On cobblers militant below,

Whom roguish boys, in stormy nights,
Torment by putting out their lights,
Or through a chink convey their smoke,
Enclosed artificers to choke.

Thou, high exalted in thy sphere,
Mayst follow still thy calling there;
To thee the Bull will lend his hide,
By Phoebus newly tanned and dried;
For thee they Argo's hulk will tax,
And scrape her pitchy sides for wax;
Then Ariadne kindly lends

Her braided hair to make thee ends;
The points of Sagittarius' dart
Turns to an awl by heavenly art;
And Vulcan, wheedled by his wife,
Will forge for thee a paring knife.
For want of room by Virgo's side,
She'll strain a point and sit astride,1

1 "Tibi brachia contrahit ingens Scorpius," &c.

To take thee kindly in between,

And then the signs will be thirteen.

THE EPITAPH.

HERE, five feet deep, lies on his back A cobbler, starmonger, and quack, Who to the stars, in pure goodwill, Does to his best look upward still. Weep, all you customers that use His pills, his almanacs, or shoes, And you that did your fortune seek, Step to his grave but once a week; This earth which bears his body's print, You'll find has so much virtue in't, That I durst pawn my ears 'twill tell Whate'er concerns you full as well, In physic, stolen goods, or love, As he himself could when above.

A

DESCRIPTION OF THE MORNING.
WRITTEN IN APRIL 1709, AND FIRST PRINTED
IN THE TATLER.

NOW hardly here and there a hackney-coach

Appearing, showed the ruddy morn's approach;
The slipshod 'prentice from his master's door
Had pared the dirt, and sprinkled round the floor.
Now Moll had whirled her mop with dextrous airs,
Prepared to scrub the entry and the stairs;
The youth with broomy stumps began to trace
The kennel's edge where wheels had worn the place;
The small-coal man was heard with cadence deep,
Till drowned in shriller notes of chimney-sweep;

Duns at his lordship's gate began to meet,

And brickdust Moll had screamed through half the street.
The turnkey now his flock returning sees,

Duly let out anights to steal for fees;

The watchful bailiffs take their silent stands,

And schoolboys lag with satchels in their hands.

А

DESCRIPTION OF A CITY
CITY SHOWER.'

IN IMITATION OF VIRGIL'S GEORGICS.

WRITTEN IN OCTOBER 1710, AND FIRST PRINTED IN THE TATLER.

AREFUL observers may foretell the hour

CARI

(By sure prognostics) when to dread a shower.
While rain depends, the pensive cat gives o'er
Her frolics, and pursues her tail no more;
Returning home at night, you'll find the sink
Strike your offended sense with double stink.
If you be wise, then go not far to dine;

You'll spend in coach-hire more than save in wine.
A coming shower your shooting corns presage,
Old aches 2 will throb, your hollow tooth will rage;

1 "This day came out the Tatler, made up wholly of my 'Shower' and a preface to it. They say it is the best thing I ever writ, and I think so too. I suppose the Bishop of Clogher will show it you. Pray tell me how you like it."-Journal to Stella, October 17, 1710. "Tell me how my 'Shower' is liked in Ireland. I never knew anything pass better here. There never was such a 'Shower' since Danae's," &c.-Ibid. "I am writing my poetical description of a 'Shower' in London, and will send it to the Tatler."-Ibid. "The Bishop of Clogher says I bid him read the London 'Shaver,' and that you both swore it was 'Shaver,' and not 'Shower.' You lie, and you are puppies, and can't read Presto's hand." -Ibid., November 28, 1710. "My 'Shower' admired with you; why, the Bishop of Clogher says he has seen something of mine of the same sort better than the 'Shower.' I suppose he means 'The Morning,' but it is not half so good.”— Ibid., November 30, 1710. "Mr. Dopping I have seen, and he tells me coldly my 'Shower' is liked well enough; there's your Irish judgment."—Ibid.

2 In the old folio and first octavo this word was used as a dissyllable, "Old

Sauntering in coffee-house is Dulman seen,
He damns the climate and complains of spleen.

Meanwhile the South, rising with dabbled wings,
A sable cloud athwart the welkin flings,

That swilled more liquor than it could contain,
And, like a drunkard, gives it up again.

Brisk Susan whips her linen from the rope,
While the first drizzling shower is borne aslope;
Such is that sprinkling which some careless queen
Flirts on you from her mop, but not so clean;
You fly, invoke the gods; then turning, stop
To rail; she, singing, still whirls on her mop.
Not yet the dust had shunned th' unequal strife,
But, aided by the wind, fought still for life,
And wafted with its foe by violent gust,

'Twas doubtful which was rain and which was dust.1
Ah! where must needy poet seek for aid
When dust and rain at once his coat invade?
Sole coat! where dust, cemented by the rain,
Erects 2 the nap, and leaves a cloudy stain !
Now in contiguous drops the flood comes down,
Threatening with deluge this devoted town.
To shops in crowds the daggled females fly,
Pretend to cheapen goods, but nothing buy.
The Templar spruce, while every spout's abroach,
Stays till 'tis fair, yet seems to call a coach.
The tucked-up sempstress walks with hasty strides,
While streams run down her oiled umbrella's sides.
Here various kinds, by various fortunes led,
Commence acquaintance underneath a shed.

a-ches throb," &c., and so it has continued in all the subsequent editions both of the Tatler and Swift's "Works," till the collection of the English poets was published in 1779 by Dr. Johnson.

1 ""Twas doubtful which was sea and which was sky.”—Garth's Dispensary. 2 Originally thus, but altered when Pope published the Miscellanies,"

"His only coat, where dust, confused with rain,
Roughens the nap, and leaves a mingled stain."